


Leave Her Johnny, Leave Her

by Jaakkola



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Flagrant Misuse of the Concept of Adrenaline, Healing, Implied Relationships, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Relationship(s), Poisoning, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22506724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaakkola/pseuds/Jaakkola
Summary: Blightcaller's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "He fell upon you?""Tripped," the orc to Shaw's right supplied."Slipped right down the hill," the orc to his left added.If the Light was merciful, it would have struck Shaw down right where he was knelt.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Nathanos Blightcaller/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	Leave Her Johnny, Leave Her

**Author's Note:**

> Nathanos Blightcaller says: Leaving so soon, Shaw? What a pity. I've got an arrow with your name carved into it.  
> Master Mathias Shaw says: We'll cross paths again, Blightcaller. I'll see you dead or in chains before this war ends, I promise you.

There was a largely sobering train of thought that came from being dragged along by two orcs and a troll, hands bound behind your back and a sack placed over your head. Especially when you were supposed to be one of the best spies in the Alliance's arsenal. Shaw was beginning to get used to getting captured, which, upon realization, made his cheeks hot with embarrassment.

The whole situation was embarrassing. Fairwind had insisted that there were some "Horde shenanigans" going on in a few pirate ports, as he put it, and in war, Shaw couldn't turn down a lead like that. He trusted Fairwind, so he and the captain scouted out parts of Tiragarde that pirates were known to frequent, splitting up to cover more ground. In a brilliant display of utter ineptitude, Shaw had slipped down a steep slope, ground slick from last night's rain, and managed to both twist his ankle into a sprain and slide himself straight into a Horde scouting party.

The only silver lining was the fact that the sack they threw over Shaw's head as they pulled him along to Light knows where hid his face and shame. And the fact that he told Fairwind that if Shaw wasn't at the rendezvous point by midday, Fairwind was to find General Shandris and inform her of Shaw's disappearance.

Fairwind had called Shaw paranoid when he said that. Shaw wondered how many times something like this had to happen for it to not be considered paranoia.

There was the sounds of the ocean not too far away, with seagulls squawking overhead, and Shaw closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds around him; any hint at where he was would do wonders. There was an orc to his left and another to his right, the Darkspear troll leading the way. "Watch ya step," the troll muttered, and it took Shaw a moment to register that the troll was speaking to him. Unfortunately, with the time it took Shaw to process and the general vagueness of the warning, it was rendered worthless and Shaw fell onto his face when his good foot caught the edge of wood planks. There was simply no recovering Shaw's dignity, it seemed.

Shaw was hauled back onto his feet by his shoulders, two large orc hands pulling him back up. He couldn't put weight on his left ankle without pain shooting through it, forcing him to limp along as he was led. There were people, and a good amount of them nearby, from what he heard. Whispered gossip and idled movement added the background noise.

Shaw was suddenly stopped on his tracks by an orc. "'Ey, Blightcaller!" The troll called out, "ya be wanting to see this!" A foot kicked the back of Shaw's knee, and he was forced to buckle, collapsing down to his knees. He gritted his teeth and breathed harsh through his nose, trying to collect himself. _You've been through worse, Mathias, pull yourself together._

The stench of delayed decay carried through the air, and Shaw took the moment to steel himself and form his expression into something defiant. His dignity may have been lying in the dirt, but there were still aspects of his pride he could salvage. He heard footsteps across wood towards him, stopping just in front. A presence loomed over him.

"Pull it off."

The sack was pulled from Shaw's head in one swift movement, jerking his head along with it. He was immediately greeted with the sight of Nathanos Blightcaller himself looking down at him. There was surprise in his red eyes, clearly not expecting it to be Shaw underneath the bag. "Well, well, well," Blightcaller said, the corners of his mouth turning up into a grin. "The Alliance's spymaster himself. How long has it been?"

"I'd think you'd be the one to keep track of that sort of thing, Blightcaller," Shaw said in place of his actual answer, which was, _Too long and not long enough._

Blightcaller scoffed as the troll handed over the daggers that usually sat at Shaw's sides to the forsaken. "Where did you find him?" He asked, not looking away from Shaw as he took them.

"He..." the Darkspear troll almost seemed embarrassed on Shaw's behalf, which somehow made this situation entirely more humiliating. He forced his face into something properly obstinate, momentarily wishing he had the resting face Fairwind had. How such an upbeat man had the ability to always be scowling without realizing it was beyond him. "He kinda... fell upon us?"

Blightcaller's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "He fell upon you?"

"Tripped," the orc to Shaw's right supplied.

"Slipped right down the hill," the orc to his left added.

If the Light was merciful, it would have struck Shaw down right where he was knelt.

Blightcaller could barely contain the glee from his face, finally looking to the troll. "You mean to tell me that the Spymaster of the Alliance just... fell into your lap?" He looked back to Shaw, and Shaw gave him a grin he had down pat since he was able to call himself a good spy, confident and smug in the face of grim odds. It probably wasn't a coincidence he learned this in his teenage years. The look was enough to make Blightcaller hesitate, and he shot a glance back to the troll. "You mean to tell me the Spymaster of the Alliance just _fell into your lap?"_ He asked, anger edging his tone.

The troll looked kind of surprised at how quickly the mood shifted against him, and clearly not understanding what had Blightcaller's mood shifting. "Aye?" he replied with caution.

"And there wasn't anybody with him?"

Realization hit the troll like a swift arrow with that. "We didn't see any—" 

That was a bad start to the admittedly correct answer, and it made Blightcaller visibly irate. "So you possibly led Alliance spies to our base in Kul Tiras because you simply _didn't see anyone else_ fall down the hill with the human?" The troll faltered in trying to come up with a feasible response in the few seconds Blightcaller gave him before speaking once again. "Take a dark ranger with you and patrol the perimeter," he snapped, turning to the orcs and pointing to one on the right. "You, go inform the Dread Admiral to get the ship ready for immediate departure."

The orc made a hasty gesture behind Shaw — possibly a salute, but Shaw didn't look over — and quickly departed from the conversation. The troll took the hint as well, and hurried to find a dark ranger nearby. Shaw glanced away from the scene, off behind Blightcaller to see a familiar rogue perched in the shadows of the cave. With hands rested on large daggers at her side, she watched the situation unfold.

"You, standby soldier. You'll be keeping an eye on our guest here, but you will excuse us for now," Blightcaller continued, and the orc seemed like he couldn't scramble to a polite distance away fast enough. Shaw watched Blightcaller as he drew one of his handaxes at his waist, turned it in his hand, and pushed the tip of the blade against the underside of Shaw's jaw. It forced him into a bridled motion, his head tilted up and chin out, as he stared back at Blightcaller. Shaw let anger color his expression as he met searching eyes.

"Voss," Blightcaller called out, not looking away, "go with the troll. I trust your eyes in this sort of thing; don't disappoint me."

"Understood," Lilian Voss said from where she was standing, emerging from the shadows of the cave and entering daylight. "And, on the chance we _do_ come across a spy?" she asked, and Shaw could see her glowing eyes on him in his peripherals. 

Blightcaller's gaze was piercing, scouring Shaw's expression for something. "Kill them." Shaw's expression didn't waver. There was no one with him, and therefore, no one to get caught.

Except for Fairwind, if the ex-pirate managed to track him down, which he very well could if he applied himself.

Shaw willed the thought away to keep his expression steady. Voss nodded and went on her way as Blightcaller frowned, clearly not finding what he wanted, but the frown faded as he gave Shaw an overall look over. "It appears, Master Shaw, that you have found yourself in quite the sticky situation."

"Didn't think you to be one who toys with a kill," Shaw commented, trying his best not to focus too hard on the axe at his throat.

"I prefer to think it as savoring the moment." The blade pushed harder, and Shaw strained in a vain effort to keep his neck unscathed. "After all, it's not everyday I get a high ranking Alliance _dog_ in my grasp."

"Are you going to kill me yourself, or are you going to save me for the one pulling your own leash?" Shaw goaded.

The tip of the axe blade broke through Shaw's skin, making him grit his teeth. Blightcaller was careful not to force it too deep in, just enough to be a warning. Shaw enjoyed the look of anger that had screwed itself across the forsaken's face, even as blood began to bead at his new wound. "I am going to enjoy watching you gasp for your last breath," Blightcaller said with dripping menace, drawing close enough that Shaw could make out the stench of his breath out from the stench of his decomposing body.

"So, the latter?" Shaw's mouth turned up in a half smirk.

The smart response earned him a swift, harsh kick to his chest, enough to knock him onto his back. There was a superficial level of pain that came from the axe dragging out and leaving a slash across his chin, something that would sting for the next hour, but nothing more. Blightcaller knelt over him before grabbing Shaw by the chin and pulling him up into an awkward position, forcing him to continue meet Blightcaller's gaze. The feeling of a hand close to his throat forced Shaw to push away his flight of fight response, knowing he couldn't do anything that would get him out of this situation alive.

Blightcaller was very clearly doing his best to hold back his anger, and Shaw was almost surprised to see the forsaken take a moment to compose himself before speaking. "Enjoy this while it lasts, Shaw," he said, grip tightening. Shaw could feel the smoothed leather against his skin. Just a small slip down would have a hand firmly fastened against Shaw's throat. He unconsciously pulled at the restraints at his wrists. "Before long, you'll kneel before her, nothing more than a tool at her disposal."

There was the sounds of a gryphon flying over head, which was strange, as the flightmasters didn't fly their gryphons in this direction. If they did, the Alliance would have found this base long before now. Against Shaw's better judgement, but not one to hold back his tongue against the Horde, he said, "just like you, then?"

Shaw was pushed back to the ground in a dismissive motion. Blightcaller rose to his feet with a look of disdain deepening his features. "Keep him in your sights, soldier," he ordered to the orc before turning away, and Shaw watched him retreat back into the cave without another look back.

* * *

A fierce downpour had started by the time Shaw was fastened to the wall below the stern deck, tucked in with goods and supplies. A pair of chain cuffs around his wrists kept him from moving his arms too far, his resting position now placing his hands level with his ears. With the undead crew of the _Banshee's Wail_ preoccupied with getting the ship to Zandalar, Shaw was left to spend the time to review his life choices up until now. Today's were rather poor, specifically.

He listened to the sounds of the storm's thunder, a lazy rumble heard over the waves of the Great sea. Perhaps he should have done some wildly romantic gesture with Fairwind, like got the man a card or something. Shaw wasn't good at cards. Or any gestures, really. He frowned to himself, perhaps he should have worked on that when he had the chance, as the chance to do it in the future was looking bleaker with every creak of the ship.

The sound of somebody descending the stairs from across the room, pulling Shaw from his thoughts and drawing his attention. Blightcaller emerged from the stairwell, hair slicked and overcoat damp with the rain. He crossed the room with a purpose, crouching down in front of Shaw when he reached him. Shaw didn't shy away from the analytical gaze he looked him over with, silently challenging the man when their eyes met. Blightcaller's frown deepened. "I'll ask once, Shaw," he said, harsh voice a rumble with his lowered tone, like the thunder outside. "Where?"

"You'll need to be more specific than that," Shaw retorted. It wasn't entirely obstinacy, he really didn't have a clue what Blightcaller was referring to. It could have been anything war related, from hidden caches to bases in Zandalar.

Blightcaller didn't immediately respond, instead opting on placing a hand way too far up Shaw's left thigh for his liking. His reaction was kneejerk, literally, as he tried to pull away from Blightcaller. It was a vain attempt, as Blighcaller's other hand found his lower calf and jerked his leg back. Shaw pressed his mouth into a thin line, clenching his jaw, but he relented. His eyes tracked the forsaken's movements as he thumbed at the strap buckle that fastened the leather pieces at his thigh securely to his leg.

Blightcaller undid the upper buckle, then the lower one, gloved fingers dragging across Shaw's thigh as he worked. He pulled the leather protection aside to reveal a concealed dagger strapped to Shaw's thigh.

Ah, that's what he meant.

"Where?" Blightcaller repeated as he pulled the dagger from Shaw, setting it aside.

"I thought you said you were only asking once."

Blightcaller's movements were forceful with irritation, moving to Shaw's other leg with a rough grip and pulling that dagger free from its hiding spot as well. "There's no need to be so difficult," he said, doing his best to keep his voice composed.

"And why would I give Horde scum an easy time?" Shaw all but snarled the words.

Blightcaller's hands migrated upwards, running across the laces of the corsetry before undoing the knot with a quick yank. He pulled at the lace by sliding two fingers into the space between the lacing and Shaw's chest and pulling towards himself, a gesture that hammered home the fact that this was such an intimate breach of personal space. But what troubled Shaw the most was the fact that he was having mixed feelings about all of this, and he despised himself for that.

"Because you know for a fact that, despite your self-righteousness, you're no different than us." Blightcaller found where Shaw's lockpicks were hidden, pocketing it with a scoff.

"I don't remember us killing our own people at what was supposed to be a peaceful event," Shaw snapped, trying to mitigate the mixed emotions by letting his anger bubble up. Blightcaller only huffed in response, reaching to pull a throwing dagger out from the elaborate folds of Shaw's armor. He tossed it with the rest, and Shaw noticed the tightness in Blightcaller's jaw as he worked. "Did you not know?" he pressed, his voice slipping into something a bit too kind for his own liking.

"I know that you were trying to turn forsaken against us," Blightcaller's eyes were ablaze with anger as he spoke, but it seemed far too forced, like Shaw's own anger right now.

"You know that not to be true," Shaw pushed. A dangerous game, this was, Blightcaller was only amassing more weapons to kill him with for speaking, and with a valkyr, there was no real incentive to keep Shaw alive, other to toy with him. In life, Nathanos Marris wouldn't have done such a thing. Nathanos Blightcaller, however, could have been a different story entirely. "Your own people were retreating back to you," he said as he watched Blighcaller's face, "and she killed them."

A twinge of doubt crossed Blightcaller's features before they hardened once again. "Enough, before I cut your tongue out," he growled with a harsh tug, freeing another dagger.

"I'm no use to you then," Shaw pointed out. Blightcaller paused his search to hold Shaw's gaze, making the spymaster realize how close the two really were, faces barely a hand's width apart.

"Blightcaller!" Someone called, far past the forsaken. "Stop undressing the human for a minute!"

Blightcaller's head snapped back, looking to the source. "I am not _undressing_ him, you'd do better to watch your tongue if you want to keep your head!" He yelled back, righteous indignation fueling his heated words, "what is it that you want? I'm in the middle of something!"

Shaw looked around Blightcaller to see the captain of the ship, Dread Admiral, he recalled the title to be. A gaunt forsaken woman that held no fear despite the apparent threat. Job security, maybe, knowing she couldn't be replaced. Or perhaps the information she had would get her in deeper trouble if she didn't share it. "There's a ship tailing us," she informed from the stairwell.

"What?" Blightcaller asked, "An Alliance one?"

The Dread Admiral shook her head. "Kul Tiran make," she rasped, "but it's not flying any colors."

"Pirates, then?"

"Aye, most likely." She gave Shaw a look over, and he held her gaze with a practiced look of a lack of expression. "It's gaining on us, and we won't be able to—"

There's shrieking from outside, followed by the sound of something hitting the water. The Dread Admiral hurried up the stairs, there was a pause, and then she yelled down, "we got company!"

Blightcaller muttered under his breath, taking a moment to think. He rose to his feet, and with a look towards Shaw, crouched back down to gather Shaw's daggers. With the new distance between them, and the distraction bearing down on them, Shaw felt emboldened once again. "What kind of leader kills their own people for exercising free will?"

Blightcaller was turned away from Shaw, so he couldn't see the forsaken's expression as he picked up the daggers and pocketed them. "The kind that will end this war," he said as stood and pulled his bow from his back. Shaw watched him leave with a flurry of emotions; relief that it was over, anger over the conversation, regret from how everything has transpired, and shame that he was feeling this way to begin with.

There was another scream from outside, followed by Blightcaller screeching orders. "What are you waiting for? Shoot that bird down!" Shaw took a moment to gather himself, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his fists with a deep inhale. With a slow exhale, he weighed his options. Whoever was attacking were either pirates, or people that knew how to be perceived as pirates, and while one was far more favorable, he'd still not like to be a damsel in a distress.

Shaw turned to face the wall, forced to move his arms in an awkward way to do so. The chains that kept him bound were secured to the wall, but it's age was beginning to show. Perhaps with a little leverage, he could pull the chains from the wall. In lieu of a better plan, it would have to work. Someone was yelling from above Shaw, perhaps the Dread Admiral, too indistinct for him to make it out. Shaw oriented himself, placing his good foot against the wall and bracing himself. Outside, as the last of the rain puttered out, there was the very distinct sound of rowdy sailors yelling and the sound of boots hitting the deck. With a renewed sense of urgency, Shaw pulled on the chains, using his foot against the wall to try and use the leverage to free himself.

What Shaw did manage to succeed, however, was hitting himself in the face when the entire wood plank the chains were secured into, because only the Light could spare his dignity at this point. He sat up, nose stinging something awful, but he was at least one step closer to getting off this forsaken ship.

The sound of heavy steps came down the stairs, and Shaw braced himself for what was to come. He clenched his fists and prepared for the worst; most likely to be struck down here and now so there would be no risk of the Horde losing their prize. With an obstinate, defiant look, he watched the doorway across from him.

Shaw was instead greeted with the much more pleasant sight of Captain Flynn Fairwind, sans coat and drenched from rain and sea, rather than any orc or forsaken. "Fairwind?" He asked, voice edging disbelief.

Fairwind's gaze snapped down to Shaw, and he watched a look of thankful relief wash over the man. "Shaw!" He exclaimed as he crossed the deserted interior. He knelt down towards Shaw, cupped one side of his face with a large calloused hand, and pressed his mouth to Shaw's.

And for a brief moment, everything was all right.

Shaw pulled away, as nice as the moment was. "This is not the time," he said, enunciating the point by rattling his chains. "Could you help me out?"

"My apologies, Spymaster. I half expected you to be a shambling corpse when I came down here," Fairwind snapped, clearly intending it to be more playful, but the harsh edge that had crept into his tone revealed his true emotions on the matter.

"Well, thankfully, you followed my orders," Shaw said with a relieved sigh. He didn't try to ease Fairwind's worries; they were well warranted. "At least somewhat," he continued as Fairwind pulled out a set of lockpicks from his pants pocket, "you came on your ship? I—"

"Don't worry, Shandy is giving air support with Tae, the _Wind Redemption's_ right behind us, and there's a handful of 7th Legion fighting with my crew." Flynn gave him a grin, faltering slightly as his gaze fell. "What happened here?" He asked, a gentle hand reaching to Shaw and thumb grazing over the wound from where Blightcaller had dug his axe in.

"I don't know if you noticed this, Captain Fairwind," Shaw gave the slightest of grins, "but I have been kidnapped by the Horde."

Fairwind snorted in response as he pulled away, "glad to see that your time in captivity hasn't changed you." He pulled his torsion wrench and a pick from his set and begun working at the lock on Shaw's chains. Fairwind made quick work of the cuffs, and when both wrists were free, relief budded in Shaw. Things were looking up.

"Thank you," Shaw said as Fairwind packed away his lockpicks. He reached a hand out to Fairwind's shoulder, giving a light squeeze. Fairwind gave a smile again, dipping his head close to Shaw for another kiss. With full mobility, Shaw pushed Fairwind back. "On a forsaken ship," he politely reminded.

"Right," Fairwind nodded, pocketing his lockpicks and rose to his feet, reaching a hand out towards Shaw. He took it with gratitude, letting the strong Kul Tiran pull him up. Shaw's knees cracked in the movement, and both of them winced, with Shaw's wince turned into a grimace as he was reminded yet again about his injury. Fairwind was more that willing to support Shaw's weight until he stabilized himself. "You alright?" he asked in far too soft of a voice for the situation.

"Just my ankle, nothing that won't heal," Shaw replied, taking the time to retie his the corsetry, aware of Fairwind's eyes on him.

There was something Fairwind wanted to say, Shaw could feel it, but he kept uncharacteristically quiet. In fact, he kept quiet until Shaw had finished readjusting his armor. "We ready to go, then?"

"Not yet," Shaw said, "I need my daggers."

"I'm sure you have a bunch of daggers back at home, c'mon."

"I'm not leaving without them."

"You can get new ones!"

"Not ones like those." He could do without all his hidden daggers, but the ones at his waist had been a gift from King Varian, a thank you for all he's done, and a reminder to Shaw for all he's sacrificed in the name of his job, of the Alliance. He was not about to leave those behind, and he _especially_ wasn't about to let Blightcaller keep them as a souvenir.

Fairwind sighed with far more theatrics than necessary. "Stubborn bastard," he muttered, "where are they?"

"Blightcaller put them somewhere," Shaw said, "if they're not on his person."

"Well, valuables would be held in the captain's cabin, yeah?" Fairwind asked aloud as he glanced up and to the left. He was speaking aloud more than looking for an answer. "And this is a forsaken ship, which are just old Lordaeron ships, which means the captain's quarters are..." he spun on his heels and pointed back to a closed door at the other end of the middle deck, to the left of the stairs Fairwind came from, "there!"

Shaw meant to ask when Fairwind had worked on Lordaeron ships, but with more pressing matters ahead, Shaw just filed it away for later. Fairwind pulled his cutlasses, took a moment to think something over, and then handed the cutlass in his left hand to Shaw.

Shaw took it, and while it wasn't his own weaponry, it brought some relief to him to not be entirely defenseless. "Lead the way," Fairwind nodded. The two crossed the interior lower deck, to the closed door. Shaw took the old metal handle of the door handle, pushed the small lever down with his thumb, and forced it open.

Voss shot up from where she had been perched in a chair in the quarters, one blade pulled from it's scabbard while the other was halfway out. Her glowing blue eyes quickly looked over Shaw before darting to Fairwind as the captain pulled his pistol and aimed towards her. A tense few moments passed as Shaw considered how bad things could get rather quickly. While he and Voss hadn't worked together too often, the two still knew how the other operated in a fight, which left Fairwind the wildcard for Voss, and Shaw knew how she handled wildcards.

"What?" She asked, not looking away from Fairwind.

"I would like my daggers."

Voss glanced back towards Shaw, and Shaw watched her seem to weigh her options. They were few, in Shaw's opinion; Fairwind's pistol was steady on her, and the only way out was through them. With some reluctance, she slid one of her blades back into it's scabbard, the other following suit. "They're in the desk drawer," she rasped as she directed her attention back to Fairwind, "don't shoot me for moving to grab them."

Surprisingly, Fairwind didn't make a quip he thought was clever. Perhaps he could be serious when the moment required it. He just held Voss' gaze as she rested a hand on the desk and dragged it down to the edge, sightlessly finding the drawer handle. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and everything in Shaw screamed trap; Voss wasn't one to take her time in anything. He gripped the cutlass tighter and told himself it was just her sense of preservation, she did have a firearm watching her, after all.

Voss stole another look towards Shaw as she placed one of Shaw's daggers on the desk, keeping them closer to her than them. She had a confident expression that bordered on arrogant, one that almost pulled a scowl from Shaw. "I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart," she said, moving her hand from the desk to the drawer. "If you make it back, you'd be made forsaken, and then I'll have to deal with you. And I've had enough of you for one lifetime."

Shaw cracked the slightest of a smile. "The feeling is mutual, Voss."

"You two know each other?" Fairwind piped up with a wholly unfair amount of disbelieving shock, looking over to Shaw.

"Not the time," Shaw said.

Voss gave a grin, revealing rotten gums and teeth. "We've worked together," she freely disclosed, as if she knew it would annoy Shaw.

"You've worked with a forsaken?" Fairwind continued.

"Not the time!" Shaw repeated with a snap of his tone.

Voss scoffed as she placed Shaw's other dagger on the table. "SI:7 must really be going downhill if this is the lot that's saving you."

"He isn't one of mine."

"I don't think—"

Fairwind interrupted Voss. "What, am I not good enough for you?"

"Fairwind!" Shaw didn't hide his exasperation as he threw a scolding look to the man.

"Not the time, right," Fairwind quickly corrected himself, looking back to Voss.

Voss scoffed once again, pushing Shaw's daggers off the desk like a cat would with a treasured curio, sending them clattering to the ground. She kicked them off towards Shaw with just enough force to get them across the room. "I won't go easy on you if this happens again."

Shaw sheathed Fairwind's cutlass in the man's scabbard. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said as he bent down to gather his daggers. Another small relief to him came with having both in his hands once again. If they managed to get out of here, the only loss will have been Shaw's dignity.

The two carefully backed out of the room, and once the two were past the threshold of the doorway, Shaw saw Voss' gaze glance off past them. His blood ran cold with that, and he spun around to be greeted with the sight of Blightcaller on the other end of the deck interior, arrow nocked and aimed at Shaw. "Not today," he snarled.

Shaw was caught off guard by being harshly shoved aside by Fairwind, rattled further by a gunshot.

It took a second for Shaw to regain his balance, and then a few more to gather what had happened. Blightcaller swapped his bow between hands and pressed his left hand to his right shoulder as a green ichor began to pour from a wound, blinking with surprise. Fairwind had an arrow embedded in him in a similar way, clutching around the intrusion with a grimace across his face. He turned around, and Voss was pulling her weapons.

Still a salvageable situation.

"Can you fight?" Shaw asked, voice a harsh whisper to the man right behind him.

"Do I have an option?" Fairwind replied, which was close enough to a yes. Shaw shared the sentiment, but he couldn't outrun Voss or Blightcaller with his ankle in its current state.

Shaw took a brief moment to analyze their options and went with his gut; no time for second guesses. "I'll handle Voss—"

"You _insufferable_ creature!" Blightcaller exclaimed, and Shaw looked over his shoulder to watch Blightcaller place his bow on his back.

"He's good with axes," Shaw continued, then almost added, _keep him within your range,_ but it didn't look like Blightcaller would be shooting anymore with that wound. A sense of pride found its way in Shaw at that. "If you can make a distraction, that'll help."

"Got it," Fairwind nodded, and Shaw allowed himself to focus on Voss.

Her fighting style was more fitting of a warrior than a rogue. Bold and brash, relying on ferocity and the element of surprise to carry her through an assassination job. Sloppy, Shaw had always thought, never an ounce of patience in the woman. How she made it this far into her undeath as a dedicated rogue would always be a mystery to him. Shaw instinctively pushed his weight onto his bad foot, the action reminding him both of his injury and that Fairwind was still right behind him, their backs flushed against each other.

"Come at me, ya rotten bastard!" Fairwind exclaimed, a cocky grin in his voice. His presence behind Shaw disappeared with a rowdy yell, and Shaw pulled away from Voss' lunge to his chest. Another slash with Voss' other hand, one that Shaw easily sidestepped. He glanced over to the other two to find the edge of Blightcaller's axe bearing down on Fairwind, fended off by a cutlass and being pushed away. Even with a new, well preserved body, Blightcaller still didn't have quite the strength Fairwind held from being Kul Tiran born. It didn't help that they were both fighting with their non-dominant hands.

The tip of Voss' blade caught an exposed part of Shaw's forearm, and he mentally scolded himself as the wound immediately burned with pain. She didn't use poison, he had learned during the third invasion of the Burning Legion, she had mastered sorcery during her time in the Scarlet Crusade, and the blades she used were carved with runes that ensured every pierce of the metal burned harsh.

Voss was far too exposed, like a new operative that hadn't been taught the harsh reality of a bad fight, and so Shaw let his left dagger slip through his hand, catching the end of the pommel between his fore and middle fingers. With another lunge for a stab from Voss, Shaw grabbed her wrist and pulled her through her motion, sidestepping and letting her fall to the ground with a new wound slicing through her ribs.

Voss stifled a pained noise as she stumbled to stay on her feet, but it was drowned out by the sound of a man falling over somewhere behind Shaw. He looked over to find that Fairwind was clutching to a barrel as he tried to find his footing. Blightcaller raised his handaxe and slashed down, anger in his eyes. Fairwind yelped as he quickly ducked out of the way. Blightcaller's axe embedded into the barrel with a violent spray of liquid, axe barely fingertips away from Fairwind's neck. What Shaw would give to have a throwing knife on him right now. All he could do was focus on Voss and hoped that Fairwind could hold his own.

"Hey!" Fairwind exclaimed as Voss slashed at Shaw far too courageously, "no need to waste good booze like that!"

"Then maybe don't move your head away from my _axe!"_ Blightcaller snapped with exertion on his end.

Shaw parried Voss' next strike, barely catching gaunt skin. "Boy, do you always sound like that?" Fairwind continued.

"Yes," Voss said without a note of hesitation.

"Voss..." Shaw could hear the scowl that crossed Blightcaller's face.

There's the sounds of the barrel being pushed over, and the sound of more liquid pouring out. "Didn't think anyone sounded worse than Shaw with a sore throat," Fairwind said with a hardy laugh.

Fairwind really wouldn't ever let that down, would he? "Less talking," Shaw ordered.

"You wanna trade enemies, Shaw? I think you two could bond quite—" Fairwind sucked in a quick breath as he did some unseen action, "—well over the fact you both have a rod up the—" a pained noise this time interrupted his smart remark. Shaw resolved himself to focusing himself on Voss' bold attacks and wearing her down here and there. Fairwind never finished his previous statement before starting another. "Voss seems more fun than you lot."

It was with that Shaw realized that Voss was intentionally throwing the fight; enough to be convincing, but still lacking her full conviction. Perhaps she really didn't want Shaw to turn, even if those reasons were selfish. Shaw would take the little victories as they came.

With his newfound knowledge, Shaw felt no fear in Voss' sloppy stab, once again grabbing her, this time above her wrist and up her forearm. "Here you go, then," Shaw shot back as he used Voss' momentum to throw her into Fairwind.

Fairwind let out a quiet _oof_ at the contact, but didn't hesitate. Finally looking over, Shaw saw that Fairwind had managed to drench the starboard half of the middle deck interior with alcohol, as well as him and Blightcaller in the process. Blightcaller was kicking away the barrel in frustration, seeming as if Fairwind had used it to keep the forsaken out of his range, but still in Fairwind's. The deck smelled like a cheap tavern. "You're lighter than," Fairwind looked behind him towards the disoriented forsaken, "well, you're as light as you look, actually. Y'mind?"

Before Voss could properly form a response, Fairwind dropped his cutlass and heaved her up in a swooping gesture as it clattered against the sopping ground. Blightcaller managed to get the barrel away as Fairwind, in a feat that revealed his time hauling on a ship, threw Voss to Blightcaller like she was a spare length of rope with only his uninjured arm. Blightcaller, obviously surprised by the sudden woman thrown into him, struggled to keep his balance as the ship swayed far deeper than usual.

Fairwind retrieved his dropped cutlass, exclaimed, "back up!" and hooked the tip of his blade into the handle of a hanging lantern. In a quick motion, he slammed the lantern down to the floor, and Shaw watched as the whole starboard side of the deck engulfed in flames in an instant. He instinctively raised an arm to shield himself from the heat as Fairwind quickly jumped back.

Shaw could make out Blightcaller cursing up a storm through the roaring wall of fire, and it took a moment for him to register that he was staring right at Blightcaller had been, and that Fairwind was now staring at him. "Distraction?" Fairwind said, giving a proud grin when Shaw looked over.

His arrow wound was frothing green. Not good. Very bad, in fact. Blightcaller had his name for a reason. "Let's go," Shaw nodded, noting Fairwind's heaving. Part of him hoped it was just the weariness from the fight, while another part of him knew better than to be optimistic like that, especially when tangling with forsaken. The two ducked up the port-side stairs, Fairwind helping Shaw up with a shakiness to his steps.

The storm clouds had yet to part, but the sun still beat down on the scene, blinding despite its cover. Everything was gray and harsh. Shaw poked out of the doorway from the stern decks to see Honorbound soldiers engulfed in a fight with 7th Legion soldiers and Kul Tiran privateers. Shaw immediately noticed the Darkspear troll standing near the doorway, pinning down a human man and ready to skewer him with a spear. Shaw used all of his height to reach the troll's throat, steadying himself on the blue shoulder and slashing his dagger across the troll's throat.

The troll made a wet, strangled sound as Shaw led him to the ground, away from the human. He looked down to see that it was Fairwind's quartermaster, a lanky but well-built man that had an accent that betrayed him from the northern part of the Eastern Kingdoms. While Fairwind's crew wasn't made up of the most reputable folk, he was the only one of Fairwind's past crew to be sailing under him now, and while he may not be a pirate anymore, he continued to hold his distaste for any worker of the Crown. But now, as he looked up at Shaw, there was only gratitude in his eyes. Shaw sheathed a blade and offered a hand.

He took Shaw's hand and he hauled the quartermaster to his feet. Davis, Shaw remembered his name as the shriek of a gryphon rang out through the air. He glanced over to see Fordragon's daughter, armed with her warhammer, batting a forsaken soldier at the low point of the gryphon's dive. Fordragons, Shaw thought with a shake of his head. He looked back at Davis, a few glancing wounds, nothing he wouldn't survive from. Fairwind must had stationed him as guard while he freed Shaw.

"Thank you," Davis said, but it sounded a bit forced. He looked past Shaw, over to where Fairwind stood in the doorway, balancing himself against the frame. Shaw looked over too, and he had to suppress a grimace. Whatever adrenaline was fueling Fairwind through that fight was tapped, and that poisoned arrow was no doubt taking its affect.

"We need to—" The ship swayed violently as an explosion happened below, and Shaw thought to the fire as he continued speaking, "we need to get out of here now."

Davis nodded. The quartermaster looked out to decks, bellowing out, "back to the ship!" A few 7th Legion soldiers looked up to see who was yelling while the Fairwind's crew immediately started scrambling to action. They may not be soldiers, but they knew when to listen to the one in command.

Shaw looked back to Fairwind. "Still with us, Captain?"

Fairwind squeezed his eyes shut, and Shaw watched him as he seemed to mentally gather himself. "Aye," he responded, eyes opening with a mixed look of pain and determination. "Let's get out of here."

Shaw looked over to the fighting. They were grouping up, sailor and solider two man groups, and it dawned on Shaw how they were getting across; the sailors had grappling hooks. Smart. "Are you going to be able to grapple with that wound?" Davis asked towards Fairwind.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Fairwind returned.

Shaw mused it over. "Not exactly, Captain," he said, turning his eyes up to the skies.

"Oh, don't you—"

Shaw ignored Fairwind's protests. "Lady Taelia!" He called out, watching the dark haired woman look down from her gryphon. She didn't hesitate in gesturing her gryphon down towards them.

"Good to see you're alright, Spymaster," she called out as she landed, her eyes flitting towards Fairwind. "Oh no," she said with a sympathetic worry.

"Can you get Fairwind out of here?" Shaw asked the cadet.

Fordragon gave a nod, and Fairwind moved to her and her gryphon without much of a fuss, which was worrying in and of itself. She helped him onto her gryphon, and Fairwind spared Shaw a glance. "Don't get captured again," he remarked, looking incredibly tired.

"I'll be fine," Shaw assured, then, to Fordragon, "go."

"Watch your back, Master Shaw," she said, and with a gesture of the reins, her gryphon took off, leaving Shaw and Davis on the upper deck.

Davis looked to Shaw. "Do you need me to get you back to the ship?"

"You came over with someone, didn't you?"

"Aye," he said, looking off behind Shaw. He turned to look to see that, up the stairs to the helm, stood a 7th Legion soldier, standing as a shield between the Dread Admiral and the rest of the ship.

"Go, I can get back with General Shandris."

Davis nodded, and moved past Shaw to the 7th Legion soldier. Shaw looked back up to the sky and felt his stomach turn when he heard someone rushing up the stairs form the middle deck interior. "General!" Shaw called out as he drew his daggers. Blightcaller emerged from the doorway, his long coat discarded, clothes a bit singed around the edges, but no worse for wear, considering the fiery circumstances. Shaw took a few steps back as Blightcaller looked to him, pain shooting through him with every shift in weight.

"All alone, Shaw?" He asked, anger flaring in his eyes as he readied his axe.

Shaw didn't have the chance to answer, as Shandris landed in between them. "Not this time, Nathanos," she spat. Her hippogryph, Jai'alator, turned to Blightcaller and screeched, fluffing up his feathers to seem bigger. It was enough to keep Blightcaller back, and Shaw took the opportunity to mount the hippogryph, sliding in behind Shandris. "Halford wants to know how this all happened," she muttered back to him.

"That's a given," Shaw returned, giving a look over to Blightcaller. He seemed keen on keeping his distance, and with his shoulder wound crippling his shooting ability, there was nothing he was able to do to keep him. Shaw grinned, "give your Lady my regards when you have to report to her about this mess."

There was a look of something that troubled Shaw in Blightcaller's expression, but when Jai'alator took the air with Shandris' command, there wasn't much he could divine from the expression. Shaw looked below, at the _Banshee's Wail,_ watching as the last few stragglers made it across to the _Middenwake._ There's a few unmoving bodies left, and Shaw felt the unstoppable creep of regret crawling into the pit of his stomach. Lives were lost because of his mistake today, and no matter how long Shaw worked in this career, there was no dampening the crushing feeling that carried as consequence.

They circled overhead as the _Middenwake_ made it's getaway from the forsaken war ship. Shaw watched as Lady Fordragon's gryphon headed off towards the horizon, no doubt looking to meet the warship to save some much needed time. Smoke had begun to pour into the sky, the Honorbound soldiers and _Banshee's Wail_ deck hands hurrying out of sight inside the ship in an attempt to stem the flames.

"I hope Nathanos was a good host during your time with him," Shandris said with a dry sarcasm that had been perfected over ten thousand years.

Shaw found himself fighting down a grin, "he didn't threaten me nearly enough, you would have put more fear into me."

"Oh, Mathias, such a flatterer," she said with a shake of her head. She lead Jai'alator back around, monitoring above. "Any outstanding injuries?"

"My ankle is the most pressing concern, but I'll live."

Shandris nodded as the two examined the scene below. "I'm surprised they aren't following," she commented, "Flynn's little ship would not withstand a cannon fight."

"Even Blightcaller knows when to cut his losses," he mused, bringing a hand up to feel the wound at the underside of his jaw. He was clenching too much. He made the effort to relax his jaw. "Though he does seem to be the scorched earth type of man."

"I will take pleasure in the thought of him reporting to Sylvanas about this," Shandris said, "She will _not_ be pleased."

Shaw looked back at the smoking ship. The rain started once again, this time a quiet drizzle than a proper storm. "So, Fairwind informed you?"

Shandris gave another slight nod, leading her hippogryph to circle over the _Middenwake,_ "Flynn and Lady Taelia came to inform me that you were captured in a freebooter based that housed the Horde as well. It sounded a bit... unbelievable, I will admit."

Shaw thought back to the gryphon that flew overhead during his first spat with Blightcaller, finding himself impressed with how fast Fairwind worked. "What made you believe him?" He prodded further.

"The fact that he asked for me specifically."

"Good to know that Fairwind can listen to orders when the situation is dire enough." Shaw shook his head with a grin. They both knew that Fairwind was somewhat frightened by the night elf, enough to give her a cautious berth and make him nervous in conversation with her. Shaw's order was specific for a reason.

It wasn't long before the sight of the _Wind's Redemption_ crested the horizon, a sight that brought a surprising amount of relief to Shaw. Shandris threw one look over her shoulder, back to the ever further _Banshee's Wail,_ and came to a decision. She made a gesture with the reins, and Jai'alator headed off towards the _Wind's Redemption._ Only a handful of 7th Legion guards stood on deck while deckhands worked to make the ship sail as fast as it could. Lady Fordragon's gryphon laid on the deck, clearly worn out from today's excursions.

Shandris signaled for her hippogryph to land as Shaw looked out to Wyrmbane's table. Fairwind was sprawled across it, his kerchief shoved between his teeth, held down by Lady Fordragon and Keeshan at either shoulder. Wyrmbane stood beside Lady Fordragon, knife in hand as he worked to free the arrow from the wound without breaking the head. Arrow wounds were always a demon to deal with, as the arrowhead breaking off guaranteed death, poisoned or not. It was an act of mercy that the old paladin took it upon himself to take care of the wound; the Grand Lector would not be as kind with this, and paladins were nothing but efficient with how they handled injuries.

Shandris dismounted once Jai'alator landed, an idle hand working its way in the feathers under the hippogryph's chin. Shaw tried his best to favor his good ankle with his own dismounting, but if such a thing was truly possible, it certainly didn't happen today. He buckled immediately as pain shot up through him, reigniting the one at his arm. Damn the Scarlet Crusade and their sorcery.

Shandris caught Shaw before he could crumple to the ground entirely, taking his weight without so much of a strain on her end. "Thank you," he said. The general just nodded as she helped him to the table.

Wyrmbane glanced up, eyes finding Shaw and giving him a look over before returning to the task at hand. "Glad to see you're still drawing breath," the High Commander said as he begun to edge out the arrow with extreme caution. Fordragon and Keeshan worked to keep Fairwind firmly on the table as he writhed underneath their holds. "With all the rumors of Kul Tirans being raised forsaken, I thought it was certain that you'd be returned to the ship as a corpse."

"Thankfully, Blightcaller's ego got in the way of his practicality," Shaw replied.

From underneath the helm, Wyrmbane's mouth was pressed into a thin line as he focused. "How are your injuries?"

Shaw glanced to Fairwind. His eyes were tightly shut, a hand entwined with Fordragon's and squeezing hard. He took that arrow, and went through all of this, for Shaw. "Minimal, thanks to Captain Fairwind." He looked back to Wyrmbane, continuing with, "I have a sprained ankle and a few minor slash wounds. Regarding that, a previously unaligned forsaken rogue by the name of Lilian Voss is working with the Horde now, and she leaves a unique type of injury to her enemies; a sort of self cauterizing ordeal. I know a fair deal of how she handles jobs, it will be easy to spot her handiwork."

"You've dealt with her before?"

"We've crossed paths."

Wyrmbane simply hummed, not pressing for information he knew he wouldn't get. Fairwind let out a muffled sob once Wyrmbane pulled the arrow entirely free. "You're doing well, soldier," Wyrmbane assured Fairwind as he handed the arrow off to a 7th Legion soldier, "we're almost done here."

Everyone watched as Wyrmbane invoked the Light, making a gesture over Fairwind's wound. Fairwind went stiff as his wound glowed, there was a moment of silence that was nearly as tense as Shaw's jaw, and then with a deep exhale through his nose, all the tension drained from Fairwind's body. With one last wave of a Lightened hand to close the wound, Wyrmbane said, "and it's over." He look to Keeshan and Fordragon, "thank you for your assistance."

Keeshan simply excused himself, while Fordragon bowed her head, shaking her hand out in a motion that attempted to be discreet. Wyrmbane's eyes fell firmly on Shaw, and there was not a single ounce of pity in his eyes as he looked over Shaw for injuries, something that he respected the paladin for. "Do you require healing as well?"

"That won't be necessary, High Commander," Shaw said.

"At least let me tend to your ankle."

Shaw bit down on both his tongue and his pride before he could decline again. "Very well," he nodded.

Wyrmbane placed an encouraging hand on Fairwind's shoulder. "Alright, up you go soldier."

Fairwind sat up, looking thoroughly shaken. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes before mumbling, "am I supposed to feel like I've been dragged out from Neptulon's locker?"

"You had a lot of poison in your system, Captain," Wyrmbane explained, "It's quite a miracle your body didn't shut down earlier."

Despite the color slowly returning to his face, Fairwind visibly blanched. "Good to know," he said, pulling himself off the table.

"Blightcaller has his name for a reason," Shaw said as Shandris helped him onto the table.

"What's that guy's deal, anyway?" Fairwind steadied himself on the table. The ship slowed as the _Middenwake_ approached, and Shaw turned to see both legionnaires and privateers anxiously waiting along the port side.

"Nathanos Blightcaller is the right hand of the warchief," Wyrmbane freely explained while Shaw removed his boot. "He's in charge of the Horde war effort off in Zandalar."

"Alright, I get that," Fairwind continued with a halfhearted gesture that Shaw couldn't fathom what it was trying to convey, "but this dude's like..." another vague gesture, "y'know?"

Wyrmbane invoked the Light once again, hand enveloped in a soft glow. The dull pain of his ankle immediately subsided. "Undeath tends to have that sort of affect on people," Shaw said as the edges of his weariness were shaven off. Thank the Light and its miracles, he supposed. The brief look Fairwind gave him was a strange mix of emotions, one that he couldn't properly sift through before the captain was looking away, back towards the _Middenwake._

"Send your injured crew members over to us, we'll make sure they get patched up on the way back to port," Wyrmbane said to Fairwind.

"Aye, thank you," Fairwind nodded.

"Thank you for your assistance in this, Captain Fairwind." Wyrmbane took back the arrow from the legionnaire. "General Shandris, could you take to the skies and ensure that the Horde don't try anything further?"

Shandris nodded. "It will be done, Halford."

"Good. I'm going to inform the Grand Lector to prepare." Wyrmbane looked back at Shaw, continuing with, "take a minute to gather yourself, Shaw."

"Thank you, High Commander." Shaw nodded respectfully.

Wyrmbane retreated into the lower decks, and Shandris headed off to mount her hippogryph. Fairwind had made his way over to the ship rail, looking out to his ship. Only Fordragon still lingered, and even she moved away to a respectful distance, perhaps not knowing what to do further. "Lady Fordragon," Shaw called to her as he pulled himself to the edge of the table.

Fordragon looked up over to Shaw, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Spymaster," she said with a slight nod as she moved closer.

"Was that your gryphon that flew over the Horde base?"

Fordragon's expression briefly flickered to a look of confusion, but not the type of confusion that came from a misunderstanding of the question, rather, it was the type that informed Shaw that she wasn't aware that he knew. The following expression also told Shaw that she quickly came to terms with the idea that Shaw just knew things like that, which wasn't wrong. "Aye, sir," she said with another nod. "Flynn was worried about you getting captured by the Horde, and I couldn't stand by if that was the case."

Shaw regarded Fordragon for a moment. An honest woman with fine prospects as a Proudmoore cadet, and she dropped what she was doing to assist her friend that, while equipped with a decent moral compass, still broke his fair amount of laws. She held herself to a strong moral code in regards to helping those close to her, loyal even to a friend by pure happenstance. "You did well today," he said.

Fordragon was taken aback by that, if her widened eyes were anything to go by. "Oh, thank you," she said, clearly not expecting that. "Just doing what's right, you know?"

Shaw caught Fairwind looking back at him as Fordragon spoke. He had been increasingly odd in behavior, and while Shaw was sure it would remedy itself eventually, he'd rather not let this stew after what Fairwind did for him today. "Would you excuse me?" He asked Fordragon.

"Oh," she looked behind her, over to Fairwind, "of course, go ahead."

Shaw nodded his thanks and got up from the table, walking across the deck without an ounce of pain from his ankle. Fairwind's expression softened from its rather sad set as Shaw approached. "You all right, Captain?" He asked once he was close enough for his purposely low voice to be heard by the man.

"Well, I nearly died today, so..." Fairwind tapered off with a shrug.

"And it's nearly certain that I would have if you didn't take that arrow for me." Fairwind looked away from Shaw with those words, but they were true. With Fairwind's extra height, he managed to get the arrow in a place that wasn't immediately lethal when it was aimed for Shaw, and even if Shaw had the arrow embedded in the same spot, it would have been unlikely he made it out of the quarter deck. "Thank you, Flynn."

Fairwind's mouth finally turned up into a grin, even if it was a rather sad one. "You should come back with me."

"I can't. Wyrmbane's going to want to know what happened, and will expect me to debrief."

"He can wait, can't he?" Fairwind's smile broadened into something proper as his hand finds Shaw's, fingers entwining.

The corners of Shaw's own mouth turned up in a grin. "I'll find you tonight. Besides," he said as the _Middenwake_ pulled in close, "you should be with your crew now." Fairwind only responded by bending forward, drawing Shaw into a kiss. He was a nice, welcoming presence against Shaw, one that he was glad he hadn't lost in this mess.

* * *

The moon was high in the sky when Shaw found his way onto the _Middenwake._ The crew had all long vacated the ship, no doubt celebrating their victory and bragging about them tangling with a Horde ship among the dive bars of Boralus. Perhaps it was risky for them to run their mouths, but Wyrmbane and Shaw both agreed that the harm a few drunks telling tall-sounding tales could do in the taverns of Boralus was minimal.

Despite Fairwind's reputation as a go-with-the-tides man that treated all work with some level of aloof disinterest, it was clear to anyone that looked beyond Fairwind's carefully constructed image of himself that he truly cared about his work. That's why Shaw was only mildly surprised when he found Fairwind stood over the desk in the captain's quarters, deep in thought as he looked over sailing charts.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Shaw said to announce his arrival.

Fairwind glanced up, a smile crossing his face. "Nah, just going over expedition routes." He looked back down to the maps, tracing a finger along one of them to chart an invisible course along the weathered parchment. "I got the gist of the path that Horde ship sails, so I'm making sure to avoid it as much as possible, as something tells me that it wouldn't be smart to sail near them a second time around."

"Perhaps not," Shaw agreed.

Fairwind paused his tracing movements. "You okay?"

Shaw noticed his mood change into something more somber, like before. "Of course," he said, "is something bothering you, Captain?"

Fairwind seemed to visibly struggled with broaching the subject. "Just making sure that nothing... you know, happened. Because of..." He gestured to his front as he trailed off.

Shaw took a moment to decipher what Fairwind was trying to get across, and had to stop himself from reacting too harshly when he realized what it was. It all started when Fairwind noticed Shaw's armor in a disarray. "No, that wasn't..." Shaw stopped himself, trying to think of how to properly word this. "Blightcaller was trying to find my concealed daggers. Nothing more."

Visible relief went through Fairwind. "Did he find them all?"

"Oh course not, who do you take me for?"

Fairwind laughed, a hearty one that shook his entire person. "I certainly didn't take you for someone who would get kidnapped by the Horde," he challenged with his cocky smile.

Shaw held back his sigh. "I'm not a man without faults or weaknesses, Captain."

"Yeah, despite how much you act otherwise," he said with a scoff. Shaw didn't respond, leading Fairwind to cautiously press forward with his thoughts. "Blightcaller, huh? You two knew each other or something?" Shaw examined Fairwind, and Fairwind added on with, "seemed kinda personal."

"We knew each other before he was forsaken, yes."

"Friends?"

That was not a turn Shaw thought Fairwind would take. He decided to change course to answer. "Nathanos Marris was an excellent strategist and even better ranger. His body went missing when the Scourge massacred the northern lands. After the brunt of the third war had died down, I sent agents out to recover it, only to find out that he'd been raised as an agent of the Banshee Queen, taking on the name Blightcaller." Shaw paused. "He was a brilliant mind lost and turned against us."

The look on Fairwind's face told Shaw that he knew Shaw purposely avoided his question. "Couldn't have been too brilliant if he underestimated you getting out, huh?"

It was a poor reading of the room, or perhaps Fairwind simply thought the conversation was too uncomfortable to continue with. Regardless, Shaw let out the bare bones of a chuckle. "Suppose you're right."

Fairwind rounded the table, over to Shaw. When he reached him, Fairwind tilted Shaw' head up to bring him into a kiss. It was a rather sweet kiss, soft and full of affection, enough to make Shaw question what he did to deserve it. "I'm glad you weren't turned undead," Fairwind said when they parted, now holding Shaw in his arms.

It wouldn't have been until Shaw was accompanying Lady Proudmoore from Theramore, speaking with her once deceased brother Derek, that he fully understood what sort of fate Fairwind had saved him from. 

For now, Shaw buried his face into Fairwind's neck, and thought of Blightcaller.

"Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> I fucked up my shoulder and my sleep schedule with this, but it's done. Didn't expect this to be ten thousand words, but here we are.


End file.
